ONCE the head is gray, And the heart is dead, There's no more to do: Make the man a bed Six foot under ground, There he'll slumber sound. Golden was my hair, And my heart did beat To the viol's voice Like the dancers' feet. Not colder now his blood Who died before the flood. Fair, and fond, and false, Mother, wife, and maid, Never lived a man They have not betrayed. None shall 'scape my mirth But old Mother Earth. Safely housed with her, With no company But my brother Worm, Who will feed on me, I shall slumber sound, Deep down under ground. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BOTHWELL: PART 5 by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN OLD SARUM; LINES ON THE CONFERENCE OF THE ENGLISH CHURCH AT SALISBURY by ALICE COLBURN BEAL THE PLACE OF FAME by CHARLES WILLIAM BRODRIBB ON A WAG IN MAUCHLINE by ROBERT BURNS A DIVINE MISTRESS by THOMAS CAREW |